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If only death had any regard for promises.
“Mark my words, Prince, I will be your undoing.” I lean in, ignoring the knife against my throat as I murmur, “Oh, darling, I look forward to it.”
“Oh, darling, as long as you still think I’m pretty, I don’t give a damn what I look like.”
She is the embodiment of a bad decision. The twin of danger and desire. The fine line between deadly and divine. And I can feel myself drowning.
And now I forever want her name on my lips and rolling off my tongue until I’m drunk on the taste and sound of it.
If I am to be her enemy, I want it to be because she loathes herself for wanting me.
“Picky prince.” “Clever Pae.”
“I’m a fool.” The smile she gives me is equally amused and alluring. “Only when you’re around me?” “Only for you.”
